


Sock It to Me, Baby

by lightsaroundyourvanity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack Pairings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsaroundyourvanity/pseuds/lightsaroundyourvanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finally gets some one-on-one time with Mr. Fizzles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sock It to Me, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> written after a hilarious series of prompts from xtexboyx and teaandchess on tumblr.

Dean and Garth were on a case. Dean thought he would have been a lot more frustrated about the situation but, well, the little guy really did grow on you, even if he did need to cool it on the Bobby impersonations. And he hated to admit it, but that trick he did with the sock puppet was really impressive when it came to getting people to open up to him. Every fucking time, it worked like a charm. Something about those wide button eyes, and that friendly red mouth… yeah, Dean could understand why someone might want to spill their secrets to Mr. Fizzles.  
  
His eyes wandered to the coffee table, where Mr. Fizzles lay, abandoned and tempting, while Garth was outside taking a call. Dean picked up the sock, gave it a once over. He didn’t know if it was the red lipstick or the coloured yarn hair or the way Mr. Fizzles looked so cozy, but there was something a little bit sexy about that sock. He glanced at Mr. Fizzles, and a shiver ran down his spine. Make that _very_ sexy.

  
  
Before he could think about it too much, Dean slid the sock onto his hand, bent his wrist so he could look Mr. Fizzles in the eye. He was every bit as cozy as Dean had imagined, warm and soft, the thick wool comforting against the skin of his hand. He wondered how Mr. Fizzles might feel stretched around some other parts of him, and felt himself go hard at the thought. Dean sucked in a sharp breath. He could hear Garth on the phone in the next room, and from the sound of it, he would be there for awhile. But still… he was in some stranger’s living room…  
  
Dean looked down at Mr. Fizzles again. His mouth went dry and he swallowed, hard. All he could think about was that if Mr. Fizzles felt this fucking awesome on his arm, how much hotter would he feel wrapped around his dick? He rubbed Mr. Fizzles’ face against his crotch over his pants, and had to smother a moan when his cock leapt in approval.  
  
“Fuck it,” Dean muttered, and then his hand went to his belt, which he hastily unbuckled, tore down the zipper of his suit pants and let his rock hard cock spring free.  
  
He wrapped the hand wearing Mr. Fizzles around his erection, and groaned aloud at the sensation of wool against his dick’s pearling head. Dean let Mr. Fizzles mouth at the spot for awhile, sending jolts of pleasure through him with every gentle squeeze. Green eyes met blue buttons, and then Dean couldn’t stand it anymore, was tearing the sock from his hand and shoving his dick home.  
  
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean grunted as he thrust into Mr. Fizzles. Mr Fizzles’ mouth was wide and slack, and he could see himself moving inside the sock, which turned Dean on even more. His breaths were coming out in ragged, stuttered gasps now and he imagined that Mr. Fizzles was moaning, was squealing to Dean in that hot-as-hell falsetto voice to fuck him harder, that he loved the way Dean fucked.  
  
When he came, Dean had to grit his teeth so hard it made his jaw ache to stop himself from shouting out loud. Still, he couldn’t stop the strangled groan that escaped him as he spent himself inside Mr. Fizzle and the sock swelled with the volume of Dean’s seed. He sighed at the relief of the release and pulled Mr. Fizzles off of him, laid him tenderly back on the coffee table.  
  
Dean had come not a moment too soon. In the other room, he heard Garth say a cheerful, “Adios, compadre!” and the sound of a cell phone clicking shut. Dean’s eyes widened in terror as he shoved himself back into his pants and yanked his belt tight, hurrying to make himself presentable before Garth returned.  
  
He made it, just barely, but Garth gave him a funny looked upon his return anyway. “You okay, my man?” he asked Dean.  
  
“Of course!” Dean said quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
Garth still looked suspicious. “You’re kind of… sweaty.”  
  
Dean gulped. “I’m fine. Seriously dude, lay off.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Garth asked. His eyes narrowed, and before Dean could even consider a way to stop him, Garth had reached over and picked up Mr. Fizzles. “Don’t make me break out the big guns, Dean. After all, you know Mr. Fizzles can tell when you’re being a—”   
  
Garth stopped short as he stuffed his hand inside the sock. His face froze in the mask of pure, disgusted horror reserved specially for those who stuck their hands into pools of jizz.  
  
Dean opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it. What could he even say?  
  
Garth shot Dean a wounded look. “If you liked Mr. Fizzles that much, you really should have talked to me first,” he said as he extracted his hand from the sock and carefully wiped himself off on it. “I think that was his first time.”


End file.
